One Moo'r Plow

“My work here concludes.” The cleric announced abruptly. The faint glow around me faded as her hand dropped to blood-red robes, a quick and curt nod given. “Tell the orc that I have rendered the services I was hired for, and expect the other half of her payment soon. Have it delivered to the fort.”

“You seem eager to leave.” I pondered out loud. More of an observation of the obvious than a jest.

Dead eyes started back at me for a second before she shrugged and stood from her chair.

“You are, best as I can tell, hale and healthy. Your body was kept from atrophy by my hand, and no ill effects linger upon you. All I was paid for to do has been fulfilled. Unless you wish to purchase the pleasure of my company, other matters await me.”

“I recall you asking to see the healing milk my farm provided last we met.” I threw in as I stood. Might as well get that over with so she had no need to return.

“I did. And now I have seen and tasted it. Part of the orc’s payment to me. Its secrets will remain with me, before you ask.” For once, there crept the rictus of a smile onto her face. “The Red God has..similar power to grant his followers.”

With that, the woman turned and swept from the lodge, gone with the same speed as her arrival. She left only confusion in her wake. I watched her departure from my doorstep, inwardly wondering what I was going to do for the night’s remainder. There was not an ounce of tiredness within to weigh me down, so sleep was a far-off dream. I had been comatose for nearly a month, and had little desire to return to that state.

Nighttime found me wandering around the farm, lantern in hand as I took in all the changes. Thich, tall and nearly ripened, the crop looked ready to be harvested within a few weaks, if the weather permitted. The cows slept, unbothered as I lumbered past their fields. There was a solitude here, one that I found myself not particularly fond of. Faint memories of endless fever dreams and visions drifted back to me from within the void. My time locked within sleep’s hold had not been pleasant, I gathered.

Disconnected nightmares and ethereal visions plagued me, barely remembered save for the feeling of dread. The woods were unnaturally silent as I paced through the tree’s edges hours later, bored and with little of my farm unexplored. I stepped around massive trucks, waded through bushes and snapped plethoras of twigs in my wake. Little moved here, and this gave me concern. Up until now, the forest had been active all times of night, cacophonies of sound that all mixed together.

A mossdeer stood frozen, its one eye turned at me as I emerged from behind a tree, contemplating how much of this I would need to clear for more farmland. Perhaps my presence so close was what frightened it, or mayhap my stench alarmed the poor thing. It bolted immediately after, the sounds of it’s bounds soon swallowed by the dark woods.

Constant checks kept me just a few paces inside the treeline, lantern held high as I explored. To wander in the woods at night was foolishness, I knew. Yet I was bored, and more than likely the most dangerous monster that stalked this place. Much of the smaller wildlife seemed to have just vanished. In scent and sight I could find no traces, and scouring provided only old evidence of their existence.

Curiosity mounted as the hours dwindled away in my increasingly mad search. I knew that this was not something that personally affected me, yet…I lacked better things to do. Morning found me sitting on a stump -freshly created, but that was it’s own problem- awaiting the sunrise and Ishila. The orc arrived just ahead of the light, tiredly plodding down the road.

There dawned a smile as the rays of sunlight bloomed across the sky, and I could not tell which was more radiant. I had but a chance to stand before her arms attempted to wrap around my frame and squeeze me into a hug. A valiant effort, even if the finished attempt was somewhat awkward. Still, I truly appreciated it. Excited conversation told me she was happy to see me finally awake, and a quick stream rattled off everything she had done around the farm.

“Forget the farm for a time.” I gently interrupted. “How are you?”

This caused her smile to fade somewhat.

“Alright.” She grunted after a few steps back. “Could be better, I guess.”

“Well.” I stepped back and gestured towards out usual gossiping place. “Tell me all about it.”

“Le’rish has disappeared.” Ishila started off once we had settled in. “After we killed the Arn’thema Overmind, she just abruptly left into the forests. Hasn’t come back out since.”

The hurt in her voice has old, but still there. The familiar feeling of someone who yearned for another.

“Don’t rightfully know why. But she hasn’t come back out. Ma’ has found traces of her, mostly her Apex form. But I can’t find ‘er.”

Thoughts churned inside as I contemplated this, even as Ishila went on to explain she had been training with her mother as of recently. With the cat well and truly out of the proverbial bag, her parents had abruptly decided that she would now dedicate all her free time to learning what they deemed important. Combat, survival and stealth. To their credit, they had not held on to the idea of trying to hide her for much longer, and rather doubled around to focus on her training.

“Do you think,” I wondered. “She might be scared?”

Ishila blinked for a moment.

“Of what? She’s a terrifyin’ Apex that can rival anythin’ here in sheer power. Gods Above what would she ever be scared of?”

“Your rejection.” I replied in a heartbeat. “Losing you. You have become something, someone she is close to. It could very well be that she prefers not to take that chance that her true identity would drive you away.”

“Gods Above!” ishila exclaimed in frustration, her hands thrown up.

“There could be other reasons, but that is the one that comes to mind.”

Ishila simply groaned into her hands as I tried to reassure her.

“You were saying things have changed, earlier?” I prodded gently in an attempt to steer the conversation away. This worked, after a moment as she began to recount the frankly large changes in the area. Hullbretch was now a hub of delvers, slayers and adventurers, whose presence had in turn brought in merchants, alchemists, armorers and the like. It made sense that large congregations of men and women with fast blades and faster purses would attract those opportunistic in the search of coin, but not the danger.

The town had blossomed, as had the price of most things. Higher demand meant higher costs as those with wares to sell took advantage of this short boom before things would begin to settle once more.

I was informed that there had been a fast, ugly streak of tensions after the baron had locked off access to the dungeon upon the Overmind’s death. For two weeks, only his soldiers had been inside, with increasing hostilities as various freelancers and guilds demanded their rightful access.

“Not to side with the man here, but if this is not his land, is it not his right to control who enters and who does not?”

The orc shrugged and slumped forward, hands upon her knees. Her answer was half-hearted at best, I found.

“While it is the baron’s land, it is by divine decree of the Gods Above that all may be permitted access to the dungeons. Conquierin’ em, growin’ stronger an’ such. While it is the right of lords to see who may wander upon their land, divine precedent overrules the will of men. There are times when this can be altered, such as during the siege upon the fort, but those are not meant to be frequent.”

The words came as if she was repeating something, and after a moment she noticed my raised eyebrow and saw fit to give explanation.

“Pa’s teachings about how adventurin’ works. Delvers, slayers and the like rarely align themselves politically, lest those who governs the lands they wish to travel have reason to keep them out. Unless you are powerful beyond mortal reason or stand to gain massively, choosing sides in a matter of politics often signals the end of an adventurer’s career. There are exceptions, such as the Highlands of Catahr, which are ruled by adventurers themselves and home to a wealth of dungeons.”

“And this establishes that Ironmoor cannot bar adventurers access from the dungeon, yet he did.” I mused. These matters of politics did little to interest me, and I tired of them quickly. Yet I refused to remain ignorant to currents I would have to navigate.

“For a bit,” She nodded.

“How fares the fort?”

“Bolstered. The Verdant Dawn’s elite hunters arrived nearly a week after we slew the Overmind. Their presence there does much to keep tensions quashed. Your friend may chafe at being forced ta’ give up control, but methinks he’s glad it’s someone else’s problem now.”

“And you?” I returned to the subject.

“Training and working. Pa has split his time between constructing more of the fort and learning me in matters of politics and how to navigate all these places I can hardly remember. Ma’ has a much more upfront approach. Out into the forest to stalk and hunt with her. Fight some monsters. All that. End of the day I still maintain the farm while you’ve been locked asleep.”

“Sounds to me like you’re busy, then.” My gaze turned around to the progress that had been made during my coma. “Too busy to be building all this.”

“That was a gift. Your friend Raffnyk. He said he had little gold to spare at the moment, and instead sent men and women down here. Tah help me build all the things we talked about, remember?’

I did indeed.

“But why?”

Ishila blinked and abruptly stood.

“There might be a few things yah want to see, Garek. Back at my folk’s place. Didn’t think it was safe to let everything sit here while you were out for so long.”

Brisk strides carried me alongside ishila as my curiosity mounted.

“Gol and Artyom have been stayin’ the nights at my folk’s place. Pa’s put alarm wards ‘round your farm to tell him if anyone intruded, but we decided it was best to leave you there and not attempt to move you. But it isn’t really safe for them there all alone.”

She looked up at me with dead-serious eyes as the tres passed by and a faraway sun rose across the clouded sky.

“You killed a newborn God, Garek. People know, and they want to get to know you. Do you have any idea how many messengers and couriers have showed up with letters, gifts and gold? Everyone wants a piece of ya. To butter ya up and get you in their good graces. You’re famous. The System specifically named you. And people have come lookin’.”

This was distinctly not what I wanted. The opposite, even.

“Then let them come.” I grimaced. “I’m not going anywhere. I am still a farmer, and I intend to stay that way.”

“Not if the world has anything to say about that.”

Her parent’s farm lay not far ahead, although the walk there seemed to drag on forever as anticipation mounted into swarms of butterflies that buzzed within my stomach. Ishila marched up the porch, slammed open the door and led my actually snugly-fitting form down a wide flight of stair hidden away in the corner.

There, neatly stacked before us, sat an entire trove of treasure. Just for me.

“Go ahead.” The orc grunted. “It’s all for you, after all.”

And I did, quite happily. After all, who didn’t deserve a reward after the monumental task we had undertaken?

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